Anne Bishop - The House of Gaian

They found Breanna in the morning room, wrapped in blankets, both hands around a large glass of whiskey.

Ashk went down on one knee in front of her. Selena sat beside her, putting an arm around Breanna's shoulders.

"Breanna?" Ashk touched her knee and realized Breanna was trembling. The woman was strong, but how many blows could she take before she broke?

"I have to tell you . . . warn you . . ."

"Tell me what?"

"The Gatherer has come." Breanna began shaking so hard, Selena had to help her raise the glass of whiskey so that she could drink.

Relief flooded through Ashk. "Morag has come? She's here?"

Breanna shook her head. "We gave It food . . . and grain for the horse. It went away."

It ? "Breanna—"

"She's changed!" Breanna's voice rose, spiked with fear. "She's been changed!"

Relief turned into shards of ice that sliced Ashk's heart. "What do you mean, she's been changed?"

Tears rolled down Breanna's face. "The Gatherer has been changed into a nighthunter."

Ashk walked out of the house, bolted for trees on one side of the drive. She collapsed against one, fighting the sick churning in her belly.

Morag changed into a nighthunter? The Gatherer of Souls changed into a creature that feasted on—

"Morag," she whispered. "Mother's mercy, Morag."

"What should we do, Hunter?" Selena asked softly.

She wasn't surprised that Selena had followed her out of the house—both because the Huntress cared about people and because she would want answers.

Ashk straightened up, feeling painfully old, desperately weary. "We do what must be done, Huntress. We form the Wild Hunt. We bring up the companies of humans. We fight the battle that must be fought today."

"What do we do about the Gatherer?"

"Leave it alone, Selena."

Selena studied her for a moment, then nodded. "You know her best." She took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. "What was the message?"

She'd forgotten about the message. She pulled it out of her belt, broke the seal, and read. "The Black Coats army in the south has been defeated. And the . . . the warships that were sent to attack the west were also defeated."

"Then this is it. It comes down to us and the Witch's Hammer. It comes down to what happens on that field today. If we win, it's over."

Ashk refolded the paper and tucked it into her belt. Not quite , she thought grimly. Not quite .

Adolfo watched swollen, putrid flesh push through the rotted skin on the prisoner's chest—and smiled. A bite to the shoulder, something a healer would think of as a simple wound. But whatever was in a nighthunter's bite that tainted a wound had spread so swiftly, the black rot had already crept down the prisoner's arm, crept toward his heart, crept up his neck.

All it had taken was one bite from him. One. The nighthunters he'd made from small animals would kill a man if there were enough of them, but a man could live after being bitten in a limb—if he was willing to sacrifice the limb. But with his bite, the rot spread too fast. A simple bite became a mortal wound.

A scratching on the tent flap. "Master?"

Adolfo pulled up the hood on his cloak. He'd torn off his tunic hours ago, no longer able to stand having the web of skin that had grown out of his side and the underside of his arm trapped by cloth. The cloak would cover him sufficiently until he was ready to reveal himself to his enemies.

Obeying his terse reply, the young Inquisitor peered into the tent. "Is there something you need, Master?"

"Have my horse saddled," Adolfo growled. "Today I will lead our men to victory. And you can throw that next to the dung pile. Let the flies have it."

He strode out of the tent, amused at the way the young Inquisitor pulled the tent flap back and held it in front of him as if it were a shield.

There were no shields from the glory he'd become. He would fill the battlefield with pain and fear. And then he would feast.

Crouched on the top of the rise, Ashk looked over the field. How many bowmen were already tucked among that tumble of huge stones? How many Fae would die today? How many humans? She, Selena, and Liam had agreed that the companies and Clans that had fought yesterday wouldn't be asked to step onto the battlefield again unless there was no other choice. Some of the Fae still hadn't returned to their human form, and she wondered if some of them ever would.

She couldn't think about them, couldn't pity them. They couldn't win this battle without the Clans, and if they didn't win today, they would keep fighting, keep dying, keep getting pushed back until there was nowhere to go. So they would fight to the end today—and, hopefully, some of them would go home again.

"Are we ready?" Liam asked, moving up beside her.

Ashk stared at the line of trees at the other end of the field. "We'd better be. They're coming." She moved down the rise, heading toward the huntsmen waiting for her. "You know what to do?"

Liam nodded. "My men will take up a position in the trees that border this side of the rise. We stay hidden until the Wild Hunt sweeps down into the field, breaking their lines. Then we deal with the men who are driven our way." He smiled bleakly. "I know you gave me that position to keep me out of harm's way, Ashk, but this is my land, my people."

"And they're going to need you when this is over. Sylvalan will need you when this is over."

"Sylvalan needed the barons who died yesterday, too."

"Don't argue with me, Liam."

He stared past her, and whispered, "Breanna."

She turned—and wanted to snarl. But the woman walking toward her looked too emotionally battered to endure harsh words, so she choked them back.

Ignoring Liam, Breanna came up to Ashk. "My home. My family. I couldn't help you yesterday. I won't stand aside today."

"You sound like your brother," Ashk said at the same moment Liam said, "You shouldn't be here."

"Don't argue with me, Liam," Breanna snapped.

He muttered a few extremely vulgar phrases.

Ashk looked at Breanna—and at Falco, who stood just behind her, already pale and sweating. Neither of them should go down into that field, but Breanna, for whatever reason, would do just that. And Falco would go with her.

"Do you see that jumble of wood and stone at the top of the rise?" Ashk pointed to the place where they'd used branches and stones to build a small wall. "I want you to take a position behind that wall. Stay down."

"I—"

Ashk raised her hand. "You want to help, I'll take the help. But give me the help I need."

Breanna blinked.

"Your gift is air, isn't it?" She waited for Breanna's nod. "We want the first lines to get past the middle of the field before we move, but that means all the men on our side of the rise will be stationary targets. Blind hits, true, but that won't matter if we lose too many men before the fight even begins."

"You want a hard wind their bowmen have to shoot against."

"Yes."

Breanna smiled. "I can summon a wind."

"Go on, then. Get in position."

Once Breanna and Falco were moving up the rise to their position, Ashk turned to Liam, who looked ready to explode. "Don't ask her to be less than she is, Liam."

"And what is she, besides a woman who's lost her mother and grandmother in the space of a few days?" he demanded.

"A Daughter of the House of Gaian."

He swallowed whatever he'd been about to say and left her, signaling to his men to take up their own position.

As she reached her horse, she heard Varden call her.

"You don't have to be here today," she told him.

"There aren't many of my men who felt they could face this field again, but those of us who can…" Varden shook his head. "We need to do this, Hunter. Now, there's not many of us, so I thought we'd join Baron Liam's men. Besides, fighting from the cover of the trees will be an advantage to our new warriors." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.